


almost lovers always do

by ectobaby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Biology, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Candy Dave, Candy Karkat, Commander Karkat, First Time, Idiots in Love, Infidelity, M/M, The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy, Wet & Messy, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectobaby/pseuds/ectobaby
Summary: Karkat visits Dave's hotel the night before his wedding.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 48
Kudos: 238





	almost lovers always do

**Author's Note:**

> i started this fic ages ago and just now got around to finishing it. i meant it to be like maybe 3k-4k tops and...whoops. to be fair, dave and karkat never want to shut the fuck up and i'm apparently nothing but a humble scribe for their bullshit. these idiots make me emotional and i love them very much. also, this fic acknowledges that jade deserves better and hopefully the (sorta) disclosure on the infidelity tag makes sense by the end. still infidelity but you know, pretty mild in retrospect. anyway, i had a great time writing this and i hope you enjoy it! :')
> 
> no beta because it's 1:30 am and i'm impatient.
> 
> fic title from "almost lover" by a fine frenzy, because i'm nothing if not cliche.

“Everyone gets pre-wedding jitters. It’s an unspoken marital law. If you don’t, _then_ there is something wrong. And there is _nothing_ wrong with you. Nothing at all. You have this shit on lock, Strider.”

Dave stares at himself in the mirror, finger pointed at the center of his reflection’s chest. A voice in the back of his head calls him a filthy liar. He tells it to shut the fuck up because it’s not _his_ voice, it doesn’t really belong to anyone, but still, it proves to be achingly familiar, a confusing and fucked up amalgam of long-dead Dirk and long-lost Karkat.

He doesn’t need that shit. Not now. Not when he’s going to be married to someone who loves him, cares about him, wants him to be happy. And he is happy.

He is.

_Liar._

Dave leans against the bathroom counter and hangs his head. His eyes are red, well they always are, but unfortunately this time it’s due to an earlier extended cry session into a pillow. Then, again in the shower, and again just a couple minutes ago when he caught sight of himself in the mirror and was forced to face just how utterly fucking exhausted he looked.

Fuck. At least he’s in a hotel so the chances of anyone complaining about his sobbing are slim-to-none. Who is going to bitch about that? They’re all going to be like— _This poor fucking chump, rented a room just to cry. He’s not even here to get laid._

Yeah, whatever, it’s pretty pathetic. He’s big enough to admit that, even if he can’t admit much else. That’s always been his problem, hasn’t it? Always too late, pressing snooze on all his budding feelings and emotions.

Which, in retrospect, is pretty fucking ironic given that he’s the Knight of Time—but irony has always been his schtick.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it, using the abilities the game graced him with to make some changes. He’s not exactly John though and, god-tier or not, even he doesn’t have that much power. Too much time has passed and, to be frank, he’s a little rusty.

But as he splashes his face with water in a poor attempt to soothe the tracks of red on his cheeks, Dave allows himself to imagine a timeline where he goes back and ponies the fuck up.

Where he wasn’t afraid to say what he should have.

Where he asked Karkat to stay.

Where he went with him.

But he didn’t do any of that and it’s too late now. So, he dries his face off with a scratchy white towel and imagines that Karkat’s waiting back in the room, probably sitting cross-legged on the bed, hunched over his husktop with perpetually furrowed brows. And Dave would smile and lean against the wall, the picture of cool, and say something totally charming and equally hilarious. Karkat would laugh.

Shit.

Something in Dave’s chest splinters and he sucks in a heaving breath in an attempt to draw it back together. He barely remembers what that laugh sounded like. Raspy, loud, and a bit obnoxious— just like Karkat himself. But he can’t hear it anymore.

Fuck. Why can’t he hear it?

Dave doesn’t even realize he’s on the floor, forehead pressed to his drawn-up knees until he hears a knock.

“What the fuck?”

From his position leaning against the tub, he can see the shadow of feet at the crack of the hotel door. They’re too clunky to be Rose, the only other person he can think that might check on him. Maybe John— but he’d just spoke with him earlier, back before his series of breakdowns, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by.

The knocking continues and Dave frowns, pulling himself up to his feet and dropping his glasses back over his eyes. Like hell is he gonna let housekeeping find the evidence of his shameful crying.

By the time he’s unlatched the chain and twisted the lock, Dave can hear low, irritated mumble on the other side of the door. Man, it’s almost midnight. For all they know he’s been sleeping peacefully. Or, maybe someone did complain about his crying and the hotel staff is like, shit, better check on that guy. Get him a bottle of water or something.

Kinda rude, honestly.

“Hey, I don’t need any towels or whatever. Just come back—”

The moments in Dave’s life where he’s found himself rendered speechless have been few and far between. Normally, any sort of uncomfortable situation prompts a slew of nonsensical babble that snowballs into a parade of Freudian metaphors and dick jokes. But, on the rare occasion, his tongue sticks to the rough of his mouth and his brain stops working, and the only voluntary movement he can manage is to gape like a fish out of water.

This is one of those times.

Karkat stares at him on the other side of the threshold.

Is he dead? Dreaming? Or wait— did he flash-step through time, and suddenly he’s on the meteor again?

No, that can’t be it, because this isn’t hormonal teenage Karkat. This is the face that Dave sees on the rebellion posters posted in the slums of the Troll Kingdom. An older, war-torn Karkat in his fatigues and an eyepatch embossed with his sign in red, covering his missing eye and most of a scar. A Karkat with shorter hair, still wild and errant to match his surly personality, but with sideburns that extend farther along his jaw than Dave remembers. Then Dave’s eyes drop to Karkat’s mouth, to the familiar teeth, too pointy to be human, but too blunt to be menacing.

A mouth that’s twisting in a frown.

“Fuck,” Karkat growls. He still sounds the same and it makes Dave feel light and dizzy. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Wait.

Karkat turns to leave, maybe run, and Dave reaches out before he can stop himself, brain and body finally functioning. He grabs Karkat’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the rough canvas of his jacket. Feels the heat against his palm and it’s almost too much; Dave sways, knees buckling. He had half-expected his hand to go right through him like a grumpy desert mirage.

Shit, he needs to say something.

“Hold up—” There you go, Strider. Use your mouth. “Don’t leave.”

Dave winces. Okay, maybe that sounded a little desperate. But Karkat’s shoulders sag, a fraction of that tightly coiled tension leaving his body, and he sighs. At least it worked.

“This was a mistake,” Karkat says, biting at his bottom lip. Well, he’s always biting at it, but this time it seems purposeful while he looks to the side and has some kind of mental debate with himself. Used to, he just had those out loud, vocal enough that everyone in a ten-mile radius got an involuntary ticket to his one-man circus. Weird. Maybe time really has changed them both.

Finally, Karkat groans and shakes Dave’s hand off his shoulder and says, with no context, “God damnit, _Egbert_.”

“Wait. You brought John?” He doesn't have time to digest why that disappoints him. He just blinks and cranes his neck into the hallway, but it’s empty.

Only the two of them.

“Jegus, no.” Karkat pulls a face. “Why would I—? No, it’s just that somehow, I allowed him to convince me that _this_ was a good idea. I must seriously have something loose rattling around in my thinkpan to have even considered—”

Ah, there it is. Classic Vantas.

Dave smiles, he can’t help himself and reaches out again. This time his fingers curl around Karkat’s bicep, promptly shutting him up and leaving him staring at Dave’s hand like he’s never seen one.

“Hey man, just come inside. It’s fine,” Dave tells him, then adds with a nervous swipe of tongue across his teeth, “I’m actually really happy to see you.”

“Fine,” Karkat grouses, and the barest tint of pink on his gray cheeks. Feels kinda like a win. “I can’t stay long.”

That…less so. Whatever, he’ll take it. It’s just that he never thought in a million years, or even sweeps, that he’d have Karkat in front of him like this again. It still almost feels like a dream. Except, if it were, they’d be wearing a lot less clothes—

No, don’t even finish that thought.

Jade, Dave reminds himself. Marriage. Wedding. That’s why Karkat is here—he’s the one that sent him the fucking invitation.

A voice that’s all Dirk echoes in his mind: _But it was John that gave him this one, and Karkat took it up on his own, He’s here to see you. Alone._

No, not helping. In fact, that’s the opposite of helping. That’s making everything a thousand times worse, and he doesn’t need to be hyper-aware of the fact that they’re alone together in a hotel room after he’s spent all these years missing Karkat so goddamn bad. It’s all a very dangerous chemical concoction and he’s sans safety gear, just waiting for it all to blow up in his face.

And still, Dave can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or curse that the hotel messed up his reservation and booked him for a double queen instead of a king suite.

They both stop, staring at the beds in uncomfortable silence. He hasn’t even pulled back the comforter on one, and the other is currently just a convenient holding place for all his personal belongings.

“Kinda funny, right?” Dave says, taking a seat on the edge of the left bed. He scoots over and aims for Karkat to sit next to him, and he very nearly does.

Right up until he doesn’t.

Instead, Karkat sits on the opposite bed but turns towards him. Dave does the same, both of their legs occupying the same sliver of space between the mattresses. If he moves just so, their knees will knock together. Dave tries not to think too much about it.

“What’s funny?”

Oh, right. Dave forces his eyes up to meet Karkat’s face, a slightly safer place than his thighs. “Most of the time the trope is that there’s only one bed—not two. It’s like the opposite of a rom-com up in here.”

“What?”

“C’mon. You know! Two people in a hotel room and there are supposed to be two beds but—” Dave gasps and places a hand on his chest, giving the best scandalized look he can pull off while wearing sunglasses. “ _There’s only one bed._ ”

Karkat narrows his eyes. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Strider.”

Dave slams his mouth shut, an audible click of his teeth rattling in his skull. He hadn’t been expecting that level of intensity. It’s fine, he can regain control of the situation—as if he ever had it to begin with. But, holy fuck, it’s really messing with his cognitive thinking to have Karkat so close.

“What happened? You used to love that kinda shit.”

 _“What happened?”_ Karkat echoes and Dave immediately recognizes that brand of grumble. “Let’s see. Crocker is trying to see the slow decimation of my entire species. I’ve been leading a pretty solid resistance against that; I don’t know if you’ve heard.” Okay, that had a dollop of bitterness. “I’ve been up to my horns in war and rebellion— So, excuse me if I haven’t kept up to date with the latest Seren-fucking-dipity.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Dave says, a little wounded. A lot wounded, actually, if he’s being honest. “Jade and I—”

 _We are helping,_ Dave wants to say. He doesn’t get that far.

“Are getting married,” Karkat finishes. “Yeah, I know.”

"Yeah."

Dave swallows. Karkat looks away. Neither of them say anything for a long time until finally Dave hears Karkat sigh, muffled and inaudible into this hands. He rubs at his good eye and stares at the ceiling. Dave can't look anywhere but him.

"A lot has happened," Karkat finally says. "For better or for worse, I guess."

“Yeah,” Dave says again. He can’t help but feel like this whole situation is haphazardly lumped in the column labeled For Worse. Maybe Karkat was right. Maybe this was a mistake. Its sort going unsurprisingly sour—not that Dave’s sure what he expected.

For things to snap back to the way they were before Karkat left and Dave let him.

“Are you ready?”

“Totally,” Dave says, and Karkat hums in response. “What? I am. We’ve been together for a long time. She’s one of my best friends—even before Sburb, and the end of the world, and the start of a new one. I’m not going to be some cliché, hitching myself to some girl I can barely stand. In all honestly, after everything is said and done, I don’t have a bad deal. She loves me, and she’s willing to marry me even though—”

Dave stops talking because even he can tell it’s becoming increasingly obvious that the person that he’s trying to convince isn’t Karkat.

“Yeah?” Karkat leans forward, just a fraction. “Even though, what? You’re an insufferable asshole?”

“Basically.” Dave shrugs. He should just end this here. “No, she’s willing to put up with me even though she knows—”

“Knows what?”

Does Karkat sound breathless? He totally sounds breathless.

And he’s leaning right into Dave’s space, clawed fingers digging into the black fabric of his uniform. Beneath the layers of clothes and years of pent up frustration, Dave can hear a low hum in Karkat’s chest. Instantly he’s taken back to a simpler time when it was the three of them, all piled in bed with arms and legs tangled and interlocking, Jade always in the middle. He remembers that hum lulling him to sleep, especially on nights when he was brave enough to let his hand coincidentally find Karkat’s side across their mutual girlfriend. It was always the loudest when he absently rubbing his fingers against the ridges of his grub scars.

“Dave.” Karkat’s voice brings him right back to the present, and the memory vanishes from his mind like a cloud of smoke.

He could tell him, confess what they both probably know. What Jade certainly knows—that Dave has never gotten over him. That he doesn’t know if he ever will. That his future wife has accepted that and knows he’ll never be able to give all of himself when so much of his heart already belongs to someone else.

He could tell him.

Now is his chance.

Dave coughs into his fist and sits back, putting a little distance between them. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning in too, drawn to Karkat like some kind of weird interspecies magnet. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

“Me?” Karkat pulls back as well, and Dave tries not to label the look on his face as _disappointment_.

“Yeah, first of all. You look great.”

“I guess,” Karkat grumbles, reaching up to place two fingers along the bottom seam of his eyepatch. “I mean, I’m down an eye.”

“And up one seriously awesome eyepatch.”

There. This is easy. This, Dave can do.

Karkat stares at him blankly. “I don’t know why I came here.”

Dave’s gut turns, his stomach drops, every single metaphor for wanting to hurl happens simultaneously. He’s finally got Karkat in front of him and he’s botching it so bad he’s going to lose his surgical license. Can’t suture their fractured relationship. He can’t even put a stitch in it. Might as well hang up his stethoscope and retire.

“Hey, wait—where are you going?” At some point in his admittedly odd breakdown, Karkat had stood up. “Wait. Just—god damnit, Karkat. Hold on a second.”

Dave stands up too, stopping Karkat from getting too far. In the tight space between the mattress, the only choice that leaves him is to get in his space, grabbing hold of his hand. Their fingers slip together, interlacing like it’s the easiest thing in the world. On instinct, Dave squeezes Karkat’s hand and consequentially watches all the hardened lines on his face break and crumble away.

Suddenly they’re back under the shade of a tree, Karkat comforting him while they bury his brother.

Suddenly they’re back at their old hive, sitting side-by-side on the couch while Jade’s legs rest easily over both of their laps.

Suddenly they’re back on the meteor and Karkat’s looking at him like he’s something, really something, and for the first time, Dave is contemplating that maybe he’s right.

“Dave,” Karkat says with a shaky breath. He tears his gaze away from their intertwined fingers and lifts the other hand to rest on Dave’s shoulder. He doesn’t push away, he just settles it like a heavy, grounding weight. “Dave, I need to leave before—”

Dave kisses him.

And he knows, deep down, that’s exactly what Karkat was trying to prevent, but he’s too selfish to care. Maybe that’s shitty. Whatever. He can accept that about himself. Because, if this is the last time that he sees Karkat Vantas, he wants to at the very least finally know what it feels like to have those alien lips against his.

Turns out, pretty fucking good.

Karkat makes a startled noise, muffled and confused before he’s finally kissing back. His hand slides down Dave’s arm, squeezing at his wrist. Then the hand is gone, opting to grab for Dave’s waist instead, digging claws into his side and dragging him closer until he’s flush against Karkat’s solid form. He’s always been sturdy, a troll thing, but that’s definitely a new crop of muscle that Dave feels when he runs his hand up Karkat’s back, every ripple prominent even beneath the thick uniform.

Yeah, that needs to come off. Now.

Dave pulls away, just enough to leave Karkat chasing the kiss, teeth biting at the edge of his lip. It’s hard to do, especially when he wants to feel that bite on so many places other than his mouth. But he needs a breather, and he needs to figure out where this is going.

If it’s going anywhere.

He knocks his forehead against Karkat’s, leans against him, breathless and panting. There’s still a rumble beneath Karkat’s chest, louder now like a mechanical cricket and holy shit, talking can wait, if he doesn’t get these layers from between them—

Dave grabs a fistful of Karkat’s collar, and he means to growl something assertive. Something to show Karkat he means business. That he’s ready and he’s not fucking around.

Instead, he whines against the tough skin of Karkat’s cheek and tugs pathetically at the fabric twisted in his hand and begs. “Please?”

“Yeah,” Karkat says, his tone defeated like Dave’s plea just broke the last of his admittedly pretty shitty resolve. “Okay.”

And that’s that.

The next thing that Dave registers is a mattress and his own soft bounce of his back against it. Karkat’s hands are on his chest, pushing him down into it, forming clawed fists that drag down his middle and stop just shy of his pants. They push under his shirt, riding it up to expose the soft skin underneath. He’s not made like Karkat. He’s soft and vulnerable and easily reddened—and Karkat drinks every bit of that in with a hungry gaze, watching the drag of his nails leave raised welts in their wake.

“C’mon, Karkat—” Dave twists up, tries to balance himself on his elbows, but a strategically placed hand on his already achingly hard dick stops him with a broken stutter. “Shit—oh, shit.”

“Are you sure?” Karkat asks. He pauses, palm still pressed firmly against the hard line in Dave’s pants. “This is—Dave, fuck. This might not be a great idea.”

Dave squeezes his eyes shut and cants his hips, trying to get some friction. “I swear to god, if you stop—I will—ahh, fuck I don’t know. Just yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never been so fucking sure about something in my life. I’ve had a long ass time to think about how sure I am about this—about you.”

Karkat’s hand stills again and retreats, leaving Dave cold and desperate and with a sinking feeling twisting in his gut. Maybe that was too much. Maybe he should just keep his eyes closed. It’ll be easier if he just listens to the slam of the door and doesn’t actually see Karkat’s back when runs.

There’s no slam, but there is the distinct sound of rustling clothes and when Dave finally decides it’s safe to crack open his eyes, he’s treated to Karkat’s bare chest, muscles flexing as he struggles to get his undershirt over his head and nubby horns. It’d be endearing if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

Dave takes his momentary opportunity to stare and does exactly that. New scars are marring his gray flesh, some fresher than others, scattered in random patterns. War isn’t kind to anyone, but Karkat wears them well. Hell, Dave knows him— he probably wears them proudly. But as attractive as this new and improved, rebel leader Vantas is in front of him, the sight still makes Dave’s chest ache with a familiar worry that he always experiences when he hears some new impressive tale of Karkat’s glory.

Karkat isn’t god-tier.

And Dave might be soft. He might bruise and bleed and bend to the point of breaking, but Karkat can be killed—and there’s no waking up from that anymore.

“What?” Karkat’s voice brings him back to Earth-C. “You’re staring.”

He could be honest about what he was thinking—or, he could be even more honest than that. Dave swallows. “I missed you.”

There’s a cocktail of emotions on Karkat’s face, so many that Dave can’t pinpoint any just one. He doesn’t say it back, but he does sigh and pop open the button of his pants and that’s _almost_ as good.

“Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Take off your fucking shades.”

Dave takes them off, carefully folding them up, and stretches to put them as far away as he can. He settles back against the mattress and feels oddly exposed for a guy who has his shirt pulled up to his collarbone and a massive tent in his pants. Time to deflect.

“Anything else you want me to take off?”

“No,” Karkat growls. Dave barely has time to be disappointed, because there are suddenly hands ripping open the fly of his pants, tugging them down. “I can manage just fine.”

Once Dave’s jeans make it to the bend of his knees hanging over the side of the bed, it becomes obvious that Karkat _can’t_ manage just fine, and Dave is forced to assist. He’s too turned on to be smug about it though and the almost feral look in Karkat’s eye the moment his dick bobs out, leaking against his stomach, is enough to wipe out any dignity he might have had left.

Dave’s eyes lower to the front of Karkat’s pants where they’re making a valiant effort of staying on while also housing a very active and excited alien dick.

“You gonna—?”

“Yeah,” Karkat chokes out. He tears his eyes away and shoves a hand down the front of his pants, trying to calm an unsheathed and eager bulge. “Shit. Okay. Hold on.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Dave says. The fucking irony doesn’t go unnoticed. “If you don’t want to—”

“There isn’t any going back from this,” Karkat bites out. He’s still holding himself for dear life, and Dave can hear the breathy tremble in his words, the low hum that continues to vibrate through him, distorting his voice. “We can still pretend none of this ever happened.”

Dave thinks of Jade.

He thinks about the months after Karkat left. How it affected them both but, more importantly, the way she had known it affected him _differently_. He thinks about how she comforted him and encouraged him, let him put his head in her lap while she stroked his hair and told him it was okay. Not okay that Karkat left. That wasn’t okay at all. But that it was okay if he wanted to go too.

And then he thinks about how she had to do it all over again when news about Karkat and Meenah came to the surface.

Dave thinks—no, he _knows_ —that Jade will understand. Hell, she might even clap him on the back for actually doing something about it.

Fuck. She deserves better than a sad, washed-up asshole who can’t get his emotional baggage off the airport carousel.

But he doesn’t know how to tell Karkat any of that because, while he’s always been good at running his mouth, he’s never been good at _this_. Strong enough words don’t exist to convey the sheer magnitude of his relief to just have Karkat _here_ , with him, in this room. That he’s spent his years punishing himself.

So, he does the one thing he knows he’s pretty good at.

Dave sits up on the edge of the bed, legs still bracketing either side of Karkat’s thighs, and kisses him. Not his mouth, he can’t reach from this position, but an open-mouth kiss right where a bellybutton should be.

“Fuck,” Karkat grits out. “I need to—”

Dave kisses him again and a firm hand on the back of his head encourages it and guides him lower. He wants to kiss every inch of Karkat if Karkat would be kind enough to let him. He’s got about two decades worth of catching up to do. Maybe they never have to leave this hotel room—maybe Dave can just kiss Karkat like this for the rest of his life.

“Dave,” Karkat says, a long and drawn-out groan. Dave ignores what might be a warning, finds a rigid scar and laves at, looking up from beneath lashes to see Karkat staring with one wide eye, looking like the textbook definition of filthy and debauched. His voice is raspy and quiet when he asks, “Can I?”

Dave doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking for, doesn’t really care. Like hell he’s gonna deny Karkat anything. He nods and lets himself be pulled away from Karkat’s spit-slick belly, all while watching as the hand shoved in the front of Karkat’s pants pulls out slowly, bringing a bright red and writhing bulge with it.

“Oh god,” Dave breathes.

There it is, right in front of his face. He tries to lean in but Karkat keeps him at bay with a firm grasp in his hair. Fuck, he just wants to put his mouth on it. It’d probably like that, almost looks like that’s what it’s aiming for with the way it curls and stretches toward Dave’s parted lips.

He’s seen Karkat naked before, just like Karkat’s already seen him. But this feels different. He’s never been allowed to touch, no matter how many times he kept his shades on in bed to hide the fact his vision always stayed glued to that weird, magnificent alien dick.

“C’mon, let me.”

Karkat takes a deep breath, shaking and purring like a motorboat, and the fingers in Dave’s hair twist to near painful. “Don’t—don’t be weird.”

Right. That weird social troll taboo about getting your bulge sucked. Karkat had been damn near scandalized when Jade suggested it one evening in the earlier days of their relationship. Something to do with teeth and the fact that trolls have too many that are sharp and dangerous. Fair, but a damn shame too, because Karkat is candy red and glistening and he’s practically begging to be sucked. How has he gone his entire life without letting someone try it? That’s depraved. A fucking crime—

“Dave, holy shit. _Shut up_ ,” Karkat gasps.

Oh.

“Was that…was I—”

“Rambling about the injustice of me never having my bulge sucked? Yeah.”

Great. Dave swallows any embarrassment he might feel and squares his shoulders the best he can in his hunkered position. “Yeah. Well, I stand by it.”

Karkat makes a noise. It’s not one Dave’s ever heard any troll or human make. Just a series of deep and throaty clicks, a bizarre symphony of alien chitter that goes straight to his dick. He barely has a chance to enjoy it, Karkat ushers him forward until there’s a wet and wiggling bulge moving against his cheek.

That’s the ticket.

“Fine. If you want it so bad—” Karkat guides himself with his free hand until the tapered end finds Dave’s mouth and hooks itself in the corner, attempting to inch inside all on its own. “Take it then. Just— _ahhh_ , fuck. Okay.”

Dave barely has to do a thing. Once he opens his mouth wide enough, Karkat pushes in without much protest.

It’s weird. It’s weird and it’s fucking the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Only a few times before has Dave sucked a dick, back when he and Jade were trying to fill a Karkat-shaped hole in their relationship. Always human. Never a troll. That was Dave’s rule. So, having a semi-soft, semi-sentient appendage in his mouth is a new thing for him, just as much as it’s a new thing for Karkat.

Kinda sweet. Being each other’s first at nearly forty.

Dave opens his mouth wider, taking as much of Karkat as he can. He gets about half-way before he chokes a moan. Troll budges may be tapered, but they’re thicker than anything human at the base and damn if it doesn’t turn him right the fuck on.

He pulls off with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip and Karkat’s bulge. “That okay?”

Dave wouldn’t say Karkat _whimpers_ , so much as he groans and guides his head back down. That answers that. He mouths at the side, sucking on the part too big to fit in his mouth. It doesn’t need much help to get wet, it does a good enough job of that on its own, and Dave’s mouth is a sloppy, drenched mess of light red. He doesn’t care. Feeling Karkat shake under the stroke of his tongue is worth getting his shirt a little stained.

“Dave—”

Dave hums, barely listening. He drags his mouth up the side of his bulge and lets the tip prod its way into his mouth.

Karkat’s breath hitches and he pushes at Dave’s shoulder. “Dave, fuck, seriously—”

He pulls back, worrying his red, swollen lip between his teeth. His stomach sinks. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, as hungry as you seem to be—I don’t think you can handle what’s gonna come if you keep that up.”

Oh. Right. That’s a lot to take in—or, a lot to swallow, at least. He’s pretty sure he can handle the former. And shit, suddenly _that_ seems like a great idea.

“Is that a challenge, Commander?” Dave asks, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds like a challenge.”

This time when Karkat pushes, it’s so that he’s once again flat on his back. Every single nerve-ending in Dave’s body sends a signal straight to his dick and it takes everything in him not to touch himself. And good things come to those who wait because Karkat shuffles his pants the rest of the way off and climbs on top, pinning Dave to the shitty hotel mattress with his thick thighs, bracing himself with a hand on either side of Dave’s face.

“Holy shit,” Dave breaths out. His hands find Karkat’s sides, thumbing over the grubscars lightly before winding around to his back to shamelessly feel up the hard muscle there. He digs his blunt nails into tough skin and whimpers. “If you don’t—”

“If I don’t what, Dave?” Karkat hisses, sounding more strained than malicious. “What do you want from me?”

God, he’s really gonna make him say it, huh? It’s a loaded fucking question anyway, a thousand different answers that all boil down to one absolute.

“You,” Dave gasps. “I just want you. Now, c’mon—” He scratches down Karkat’s back until he gets a handful of troll ass and tugs him closer, canting his hips at the same time until he feels a wet heat slither around the head of his cock.

Dave sees fucking stars.

“Fuck—” Karkat’s arms collapse under his weight, sending him to his elbows. This close, Dave can feel his stuttering hot breath against his cheek; how his chest vibrates with alien sound; how his bulge winds around him properly, stroking and slicking him up.

“That feels,” Dave bites off his words with a muffled moan, teeth pressing sharp into his lip. His back arches into it, into Karkat, and suddenly every adjective pales in comparison to how it _really_ feels. He settles with— “That feels so fucking good.”

“Scoot back.”

“Yes, sir,” Dave says. The _sir_ is mostly teasing. Mostly, it’s just hot.

Dave complies and Karkat moves with him; doesn’t have a choice with his bulge twined around Dave’s dick. It’s all so much.

But none of it is enough.

“Karkat?”

“Yeah?” Karkat pants. His bulge is still squeezing up and down the length of him curiously like it’s trying to map out and memorize every freckle and vein. “Dave, can—”

“Yes,” Dave groans. “God, yes. Fuck. Just do it.”

Holy shit, he hopes they’re on the same page and Karkat wants what he does.

Dave makes a disappointed sound when Karkat pulls away, leaving his dick lonely and twitching on his stomach. But the sound he makes when he realizes _why_ is a lot less disappointed and a lot needier. Karkat gets one knee between Dave’s legs and spreads them wide enough to fit the other.

Karkat manhandles them both into position. He’s got a hand on each of Dave’s knees, holding him open, and his bulge is just as curious about what’s happening further down as it was about Dave’s mouth and dick.

And yet, he still looks down at Dave with a worried face and asks— “Are you sure?”

Dave groans. “Please ask me again. One more time. I might not be sure.”

Karkat huffs out a gravelly laugh. “You sure, Strider?”

If Karkat were still wearing his shirt, Dave would grab him by the collar. But, to both his dismay _and_ pleasure, he’s shirtless and Dave’s left to thread his fingers in the short hair at the base of his neck to pull him down.

He kisses Karkat like he means it.

Like he loves him.

And then he pulls away with a gasping breath.

“I’m sure,” Dave mumbles against Karkat’s lips, enunciating with a playful bite. “I need you to fuck me, _Vantas._ ”

Karkat doesn’t say anything, and Dave’s not sure he’d be able to hear him if he did. All the blood rushes to his head when Karkat presses forward, putting weight on Dave’s knees and bending him in half. Even then, the purr radiating from the center of Karkat’s chest is too loud. He lets go of one of Dave’s legs in favor of guiding his bulge closer so it can prod with better dexterity.

“Oh, shit,” Dave hisses.

“Have you—” Karkat gasps. He sounds as wrecked as he looks. “Have you ever been with a troll before?”

Dave bites his lip and shakes his head. “No, but I can handle it.”

The look he receives is dubious at best. To be fair, it’s a lot harder to hide every micro-expression without his shades on, and Dave is acutely aware that currently, his expressions are anything but micro. His teeth are clenched, his nose scrunched, and his eyes nearly closed, sweat already beading along his hairline. He has to grab the backs of his thighs just to keep himself open because it turns out, a self-lubricating tentacle dick working its way inside feels pretty fucking foreign.

Karkat looks smug about it, which would be infuriating if it wasn’t so hot.

“You sure?”

Dave shoots him the dirtiest look he can muster. Though, the effect is immediately ruined when he feels Karkat slide out and back in deeper. He’s reduced to a low whine, head thrown back on the pillow, gathering just enough coherency to raise his head and growl, “C’mon, give it to me, Commander. Show me what ya got.”

That does it. The last crack in the Hoover Dam of pent-up, unresolved sexual tension.

Karkat pushes in, goes straight for home base, and the stretch is enough to make Dave’s eyes sting. It’s softer, more malleable than a human cock and the initial burn subsides fairly quickly. Any discomfort is nearly impossible to concentrate on when it moves inside on its own, rubbing and searching for something that doesn’t exist in Dave’s body.

“Holy shit,” Karkat breathes out, falling forward. He keeps a firm grasp on one of Dave’s thighs, squeezing with a bruising grip, his claws digging into tender flesh. “You’re so—”

“Yeah,” Dave manages, nodding his head. He knows what he wants to say because he _feels_ it, but Dave’s pretty sure that if he hears Karkat tell him how tight he is, he’s gonna come on the spot. “Feels good.”

When Karkat pulls out and slides back in, it feels even better, and by the time he’s got steady pace, Dave’s mentally checked out. The words spilling from his mouth are barely decipherable, just a litany of _Karkat_ and _fuck_ and _yes_.

Words have escaped Karkat altogether, only the low hums and clicks that have acted as white noise in the background of this entire endeavor. His brows are furrowed in an intense concentration, his wiry dark hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks pinker than they are gray. Fuck, he looks so good, and Dave wants to see all of him, every bit.

He slips his hand to Karkat’s cheek, thumbing over the sweat-slick skin, smoothing over the scar peeking from beneath the lip of his eyepatch. Dave pushes it up and Karkat growls a desperate warning but doesn’t stop him. Underneath, his eye is milky white like a ghost, a jagged raised line cutting through the center, splitting his eyebrow in half, and Dave sucks in a breath.

“I know,” Karkat grumbles, voice low and inhuman. His thrusts have slowed to a stop and he keeps himself pressed against Dave while his bulge does all the work. It’s distracting, but not as distracting as the way Karkat’s looking at him.

Embarrassed.

Dave can’t even figure out why. “Told you that you look good.”

“Shut up.” Karkat looks down, almost demure. “You don’t have to flatter me.”

A slow smile creeps onto Dave’s face. He slips the eyepatch off all the way and tosses it. If he can’t have his shades, Karkat can’t have the eyepatch—and the rough, rebel leader look is really doing it for him. “You think I’d waste my time flattering you?”

Karkat huffs. “Not really.”

“Good,” Dave says. He loops his arms around his neck and pulls him down, close enough to kiss. It’s soft, almost chaste, but just as good as any of the others they’ve shared so far. Karkat opens slowly for him, letting his chance his tongue along the ridges of his teeth before he pulls enough to mumble against his lips, “Because I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah?” Karkat asks. He rolls his hips, with a messy slap that knocks Dave’s breath from his lungs that he replaces with a sharp whine. “That sounded like flattery, Strider.”

“Fuck you,” Dave laughs— but it’s caught in his throat as Karkat does it again. “No, fuck _me_. Please— _ahhh_ , fuck Karkat, please.”

Karkat buries his head in the crook of Dave’s neck and does exactly that. He clings to Dave like he wants the moment to last forever, and again Dave’s filled with that lingering sense of irony and guilt in the realization that he can’t stop the clock for him. Because he would if he could.

He would.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and Dave forces away the crushing weight in his chest reminding his heart that it’s too late for them. This is all he has, all he’s gonna get.

“Dave,” Karkat whispers and gently paps his cheek. “You with me?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks. “Don’t stop.”

“I got you,” Karkat murmurs, “I got you.”

Dave blinks back the tears that spill hot down his cheeks. He’s checked out, nodding blindly, and distantly thinks: _Yeah, you always have._

_You got me._

Karkat lets out a pained grunt and it’s only then that Dave registers that his thrusts have grown erratic, his bulge writhing the best it can in the tight space of Dave’s body. His own cock is trapped between their stomachs, gracious friction provided by Karkat moving on top of him. Dave arches his back, seeking more, something harder.

Karkat gets the picture, he snakes a hand between them and takes ahold of his aching dick and squeezes right at the base. Dave makes a noise he should be embarrassed about, but it just feels so good—and it's so much, Karkat’s hand and bulge working overtime to hit that sweet spot. He feels dizzy and completely unable to control the needy, desperate sounds he’s making.

“Don’t stop,” Dave pants. “I’m gonna— _oh my god_ , don’t stop.”

It doesn’t take much after that, a few skilled pulls of Karkat’s fist and Dave’s coming over his fingers, all over their stomachs. He strokes him through it, wringing out every drop until Dave whimpers and pushes at his arm to let go. This has gotta be what heaven feels like—wetter than he’d expected, kinda feels like a slip’n’slide between his legs, but still perfect.

Dave lolls his head to the side, gazing up at Karkat with glassy eyes and gives him his best fucked-out grin. “Didn’t say you could stop.”

_“Dave.”_

“Wanna feel you,” Dave slurs, voice hoarse. His throat feels like shit, he must have been louder than he realized through all that. He can only think in fragmented sentences. “C’mon. All of it.”

Karkat’s eyes narrow and he leans back on his knees, still buried deep, and takes a long look at the mess they’ve made. His hips stutter with shallow thrusts, holding onto Dave’s ankles like they’re the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.

He’s not gonna last much longer. Dave still intimately remembers his tell and there it is. He watches as Karkat squeezes his eyes shut, bites his lip, and makes a strangled noise.

Even though Dave knows what’s coming, he’s still not prepared. The onslaught of slurry that fills him and leaks out, drenching his thighs and the sheets beneath him, has his whole body shaking. Karkat’s not in much better shape, gasping for breath and desperately working his hips, pumping every last drop into Dave like he’s a human filial pail.

“Fuck,” Karkat bites out one final time and collapses on top of him. “ _Fuck._ ”

“That’s definitely a word to say,” Dave says, mumbles it into the nest of dark hair tickling at his nose. “Surprisingly accurate too.”

Karkat laughs and Dave wishes he could captchalogue it so that he’d never run the risk of forgetting again. They lay like that, pressed against each other, naked and in need of a shower until Dave’s arm starts to go numb and he gently rolls Karkat to the side. He acts offended, scowling and rolling his eyes—well, his _eye_ —and grumbles something that’s too soft to be insulting. In the next breath, he drags Dave to his chest and holds him there.

They lay like that even longer.

“Do you think that,” Dave pauses and thinks on how to word things so that it doesn’t sound like he’s asking for anything. He licks his lips and tries again. “Does it feel like we were always meant to be like this?”

Karkat’s arms tighten around him. He doesn’t say anything.

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

“You’re getting married,” Karkat says flatly. “I have to go back. They need me at the rebellion.”

“I know, I know. That’s not what—” Dave lets out a frustrated groan and rolls out of Karkat’s embrace. It sucks and he immediately wants to bury himself back in those impressive arms, but he stays strong. “I didn’t mean. Shit, I guess what I’m trying to say is…it feels right. Doesn’t it?”

This would be a lot easier of a conversation to have if his dick wasn’t out. He doesn’t have the luxury of a retractable one. Still, Dave looks at him hopefully.

“Does it matter?” Karkat finally asks. “We’ve made our decisions.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No, I’m not.” He sighs and sits up, rubbing a hand down his face, frowning when he catches Dave staring. “Fine. It feels right. Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you think that’s going to make any of this easier? I still have a war to fight and you still have a white picket fence to paint, Dave.”

Dave hears him, he does. It’s just that he chooses not to acknowledge it. “Are you still with Meenah?”

“What?” Karkat blinks. Winks, rather. His scarred eye doesn’t move so good. “Is that—are you seriously worried about that? Holy shit. That’s rich coming from the future Mr. Harley.”

Dave shrugs and pretends _that_ doesn’t sting. “I’m just wondering.”

“Different quadrant,” Karkat mumbles. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh. So, uh…what was that? Red or black?”

If looks could kill—well, Dave’s just happy he’s basically immortal. Karkat lets out a long, frustrated groan and stands, shimmying his pants up his thighs, completely unfazed by the red-tinted mess covering him. Part of Dave feels like he should stop him, but even that feels too pathetic. So, instead, he just leans over and picks up Karkat’s shirt for the floor and holds it out to be snatched away.

“Seriously, Dave? You’d think that after all these years coexisting among my species, you’d be able to work that one out on your own. So, just ask yourself—” Karkat takes a deep breath and pulls his undershirt on, when his head pops out of the collar, Dave’s heart does a little flip. He’s so goddamn handsome.

And, oh, his mouth is moving but he hasn’t heard a word of it. Dave shakes his head. “Huh?”

“I asked if that felt pitch to you.”

“Oh.” Dave feels his face go red. There’d been some nails and teeth, but he doesn’t have a great concept up what goes down during troll hatefucking happy hour. He shrugs again. “I guess not.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Maybe it’s the post-orgasm haze that’s clouding his judgment. Maybe it’s just the desperate yearning to show Karkat that he’s still the Same-Old-Dave that he always knew. Whatever the case, it makes him reach across the mattress for his shades. He lets them drop perfectly onto the bridge of his nose, a skill that he’s acquired through wearing the same aviators every day for two decades and a desire to appear effortlessly cool.

Dave hits him with a trademark Strider half-smile. “Would you love me if I weren’t?”

Karkat just stares at him in disbelief. Dave's chest tightens when he realizes what he's just said and thinks, oh, he’s finally done it. He's finally fucked everything up beyond repair. He used the _L-word_ , and he’s about five seconds away from absconding from his own hotel room when Karkat’s dark lips break into a smile.

“I guess not,” he says.

Dave feels the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. “Yeah. Have to say, that’d be pretty boring.”

“Yeah,” Karkat hums. His eyes drop to Dave’s lap. “Put your fucking pants on.”

“Yes, sir.” Dave stands to pull his pants back up over his hips, stopping at the button of his fly to wiggle his eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

“Strider, you couldn’t handle a round two with me.”

He feigns offense, but Karkat’s right. Everything below the waist aches and there’s no way in hell he’d survive another go so soon. He’s not as young as he used to be, and he doesn’t even want to begin to think about all the wasted youth spent _not_ fucking like rabbits.

Plus, the hotel sheets are slurry-resistant but even they have a threshold.

“Yeah,” Dave releases the loose hold on his dignity. “You’re probably right.”

Karkat smirks at that, but Dave sees his cheeks turn pink, that candy blood rising to the surface. He grabs his uniform jacket while Dave finds where he tossed the eyepatch. He hands it to him with a frown.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. I still like it better off.”

“You’re disgusting,” Karkat grumbles, fitting it back over his eye. He runs his fingers through his hair and adjusts the stray strands licking up around his horns before turning to button his jacket. Dave bats his hand away and takes over.

“Maybe,” Dave says. One button. Two buttons. “I think you love that too though.” Five buttons. Six. He’s at his collar now, fastening the last one closed. He’s shaking. “Do you?”

Karkat brings his hands to close are his wrists and holds him there. Dave spreads out his fingers, resting his palms flat on Karkat’s chest, feels his strange alien heart thump right through the layers of fabric. He takes a breath and it catches in the back of his throat, making a choked sound. Something hot rolls down his cheek and Dave realizes his crying again.

Fuck.

“Dave,” Karkat says, softer than he’s ever heard him before. “Listen, I—”

He cuts him off with a broken noise. His heart feels like it’s tearing in two. “You don’t have to say it. I mean, you’re right. What difference does it make?”

Karkat’s eyes harden and the grip on Dave’s wrist tightens. “It won’t make a difference, but I think it needs to be said. You’ve always been a pain in my ass.”

Dave snorts. “Romantic.”

“Shut up, Strider,” he scoffs fondly.

Only Karkat Vantas could scoff fondly, Dave thinks. “Okay, sorry. Go ahead. Let me down gently, Commander.”

“We’ve always been shit at this. Both of us. I don’t know why,” Karkat pauses and bites at his lip, looking away. “I don’t know why I couldn’t just tell you before. I guess I was afraid of rejection. You meant so much to me and I couldn’t even fathom a timeline where you felt the same. So, I thought I’d keep doing what we were doing, and everything would be okay. But it wasn’t. I got jealous and bitter and I left—and I think about it every day of my life. Jade deserved more than me pining over you. And, Dave, I have to be honest, she deserves better than you too.”

Dave nods. He knows that. “I know that.”

“I loved you.”

There’s a pool of red collecting at the corner of Karkat’s eye. Dave’s hands are still held securely in place, so he can’t do some sappy shit like wipe it away. Instead, he knocks their foreheads together and smiles. “Past tense?”

“I hate you.”

Dave hums. “So, that _was_ spades sex.”

Karkat kisses him to shut him up, and Dave would be lying if he said that wasn't what he was angling for. He doesn’t want to stop kissing; he doesn’t want to pull away. So, when Karkat tries, he bites at his lip and attempts to pull him back in.

“I should probably go,” Karkat whispers. “You should sleep.”

“Right.”

“Big day tomorrow.”

“Right,” Dave repeats awkwardly. “Are you, uh, I hate to ask. Are you coming?”

Something cracks on Karkat’s face. “Don’t ask me to do that.”

“I’m not,” he assures quickly. He’s not sure he can take seeing full-blown Vantas tears. “I don’t know if I could handle it, honestly. I mean, in a perfect world you’d be my best man. Wait—no, in a perfect world you’d be walking down the aisle. Red tux. We’d both be wearing red. It’s like, our color. Instead of flowers, you’d have a bouquet of swords because that would just be fucking awesome. Everyone would be like, _damn!_ _Can two knights get married?_ And we’d say— _mmmmfph._ ”

Karkat slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I let you talk for that long.”

Dave says something but it’s muffled. His aviators are skewed just enough that one eye is exposed, and he uses it to his advantage to give Karkat the best puppy-dog look he can muster. Karkat lets up, slowly and skeptically.

“I love you too,” Dave blurts out the moment he’s free. It feels good to say, even if it’s pointless. It’s like an old weight has lifted. “I thought you should know.”

“Thanks,” Karkat says, then frowns. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s really all there is to say on the matter.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” Dave says. He waits until Karkat’s done staring at the floor, apparently very interested in the carpet, before he continues. “You should go see Jade though, you know, before you leave. She misses you too.”

“Maybe.”

“She’d be pretty pissed if you didn’t.”

“She’d probably be pretty pissed if she knew I just slept with her fiancé too.”

Dave reaches out and pats Karkat’s shoulder. It’s weird. He doesn’t know why he does it. “Nah,” he says, “I’m going to tell her. She’ll probably be thrilled. Maybe a little upset she couldn’t watch.”

Karkat makes a face but then seems to reconsider. “No, you’re right. We probably owed her that much.”

“Yeah, man. She probably thought she was going to get to see some sweet bulge-on-dick action when we were all dating, and then we just went and locked all our feelings in a box and didn’t do anything more than touch pinkies.”

“I don’t even think we did that.”

“Yeah, that would have been crossing our proverbial no-homo line in the sand. We all know what hot finger-on-finger action leads to.”

“Oh my god,” Karkat groans and tries to hide his laugh with a scowl. “Stop talking.”

Dave holds up his hands in surrender, half-smile on his lips. “Is that an order, Commander?”

“Is that a _thing_ for you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Kiss me, then,” Karkat says. “That’s an order.”

The digital clock on the nightstand is flashing twelve minutes past four by the time they pull away. Dave’s not sure what it said when they started. But sleep starts to pull at his eyelids, and he needs at least four hours of shut-eye to be able to function properly. He wishes Karkat could just stay, just the one night, but he doesn’t have it in him to ask.

“I should go,” Karkat says for what may be the hundredth time since showing up. “Really this time.”

Dave runs his hands up and down Karkat’s arms, squeezing at his biceps. Fuck, he’s strong. “I’ll walk you out.”

The walk from the bed to the door is about fifteen feet, and it feels both like the longest sprint of his life and the shortest. He keeps a hand on Karkat’s lower back, guiding him like he might get lost otherwise. In truth, he just wants to touch him for as long as he can. More than that, he wants to ask if he’ll ever see him again. Maybe not like this, not in the capacity, but just to see him would be nice.

But Dave’s fairly certain his heart can’t take a no, so he doesn’t ask at all.

Instead, once they’re at the door, opening it to the artificial yellow light of the hallway, he says— “Earlier you said you couldn’t fathom a timeline where I felt the same. Kinda messed up, isn’t it? That I did in this one. So, I was wondering. Do you think there’s one where we figure our shit out and make it work?”

Karkat has one foot out of the door. He turns, a bit perplexed, and seems to think it over. “Maybe,” he says, “Yeah. I think so.”

In a weird way, it feels comforting to think that there might be a splinter of himself that did things right. A splinter that goes to bed with Karkat, maybe one that isn’t plagued by rebellion and war. And where Jade’s still his best friend, and Dirk’s alive and not sans head any more than usual. It’s a nice thought.

“Me too,” he tells Karkat. Then, almost bittersweet, adds, “I hope they’re happy.”

Dave kisses him one last time.


End file.
